The Gift at Christmas
by ameliapemerson
Summary: The family gathers for Christmas. This will be a three part story. I hope you enjoy. This is part of the epilogue to The Gift story.
1. Chapter 1

**December 1933**

"I say, Mummy…." Thirteen-year-old Elinor tried to sound subtle about bringing up her favorite topic once more. "Colonel Waterford told me Sweetbriar has such agility over the oxers. You feel almost like flying."

Frustratingly her mother refused to take the bait. Mary simply kept on eating her breakfast.

"I wish I could go flying," Seb said, scooping his last forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. "Maybe have my own aeroplane. A Westland PV-3 like the Duke of Hamilton and David MacIntyre flew over Everest. I read about it in _Boy's Own_. They almost died because of …of hy uh… hyo …hypo…poxia or something. They couldn't breathe."

"Hypoxia. And don't talk with your mouth full, Sebastian." Mary reminded her son.

"What nonsense!" Elinor said. "You can't possibly own your own aeroplane." She twisted back to her mother. "Colonel Waterford said she's spirited and bold. Sweetbriar…I know you'll like her."

Seven-year-old William piped up, "I want a Meccano No.7 drag line excavator…Daddy said he look for one at Hamleys."

"We're not talking about that!" Elinor burst out in a high pitched whinge. "I was speaking to Mummy about Sweetbriar. No one cares about smelly aeroplanes or digging toys."

"Aeroplanes aren't smelly! Horses though…Ewww." Sebastian pinched his nose in disgust. It had turned out speed was what Seb sought rather than a love of equines, having turned from rocking horses to toy cars and now to aeroplanes.

"Ugh. Horses are beautiful. You're smelly!"

"Elinor." Mary levelled her not to be ignored parental tone at her daughter. "Do try to be nicer to your brothers. They're dreaming about Christmas gifts. Just like you." Elinor had made it clear as crystal to anyone who'd listen she wanted a horse now that she was almost fourteen. A proper horse, she'd say. Not a pony anymore.

"Yes, Mummy." Elinor said, chastened, even as she threw Sebastian a side eye.

She'd never let on but Mary smiled on the inside. Her darling eldest daughter not only had to put up with three brothers, she was at that dramatic age where absolutely everything was of deathly dramatic import.

"Let's finish our breakfast, shall we."

The children dutifully returned to eating.

Lang appeared at the doorway to the small dining room upstairs the younger Crawley's used for their own family meals.

"Yes, Lang?" Mary glanced over.

"Mr. Crawley is on the telephone m'lady."

"Daddy!" William declared, jumping off his chair. "Can I talk to him? PLEEEASE Mummy?" He ran after Mary into the sitting room.

Sebastian and Elinor gave each other a smug glance. At least they could agree that it was entirely childish to demand to speak to their father on the telephone.

As much as they might want to.

Matthew and George were away in London for the past week. First for their bi-annual checkup with the ophthalmologist and then to complete business with St. Dunstan's. George helped out at Downton Hall during school holidays and he was entrusted with acquiring needed supplies from the store rooms at Regent's Park. His father had to take meetings on funding measures with the Swire Trust solicitors, so George was dropped off by taxi at Regent's Park. He was to meet up with Matthew the next day after spending the night in the guest quarters of St. Dunstan's.

Mary anticipated their return. She picked up the receiver. "Hello darling. Have you finished your engagements? Mama's having a few people over for dinner tonight and I told her you'd be back in time."

"Just about." Matthew answered. "I'm about to go to St. D's to fetch George. We're planning on taking the afternoon train to Downton Station."

Mary felt a tug. "Yes William. Daddy will say hello."

Matthew smiled. His youngest son loved talking on the telephone.

"Daddy!"

"Hello my boy!"

"It's been raining all day. I've not been able to go fishing with Grandpapa like he promised but he said we would try again tomorrow."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe we can all go together in the morning."

William smiled broadly at the idea of his father joining them. "I'll be very careful not to catch my line on yours."

Matthew knew that was a reference to the last time they went with Robert down to the pond. He really had been just going through the motions of fishing as he didn't want to hit anyone with his rod by flinging it about, literally blind. But William, in his eagerness, had entangled his line into his father's and as a result the boy caught nothing.

"I'm sure everything will be fine. Can you put Mummy back on the line?"

After some scratching sounds Mary said, "Darling, I'm back."

"How's little Violet?" he inquired. When Matthew left their youngest child had a cold.

"Better. Pink cheeked and happy. I swear she's grown just in the time you've gone."

Ten-month-old Violet, named for her late, dearly beloved granny, had been unexpected. Mary thought she was done having children after William, but after an exhausting pregnancy earlier in the year she gave birth to a slightly underweight but healthy baby girl.

"What is it William?"

Matthew heard a pause, then nothing. Then his wife came back on the line, laughing.

"He wants me to make sure you went to Hanleys. His birthday being on Saturday."

Matthew then shared in Mary's mirth. "Irascible tyke. Tell him nothing, but I did find exactly what he wanted. The manager and George were most helpful."

"No names, no pack drill." Mary answered back. "Of course."

"George sends his hellos. See you this afternoon. Give our love to everyone." Matthew felt for the hook and replaced the receiver.

XX

Matthew took a cab to St. Dunstan's to pick up his son.

"Thank you, Hanson," he said getting into the taxi the doorman had held for Mr. Crawley after calling down about needing a ride to Regent's Park. The Army and Navy Club always did their best for him while never showing his affliction was an imposition.

The ride took him to the Park. He got out and walked the rest of the way up the walkway, using his cane to make sure he stayed on the pavement. He knew his way around St. Dunstan's as he'd either worked for or with them for almost twenty years. He made his way quickly up the walk and inside the building.

"Father, good morning." George approached as Matthew stopped as soon as he heard his son's voice. He held out his arms and George embraced him.

"Have they taken good care of you?"

"Yes. I've had a marvelous time. There was an exhibition yesterday about the progress made by the Germans using guide dogs for the blind."

"Yes, I've heard about that from some of the therapists at the Hall." Matthew also knew that a die hard contingent of the blinded were completely opposed to using dogs given themassociation of dogs with street beggars. Also proud St. Dunstan men didn't want, in the middle of harsh economic times, to be seen using dogs that would make them even more conspicuous as useless burdens.

"Are you ready to go, son?"

Ian Fraser approached. "Hello Matthew. We've been expecting you. George has something to tell you, don't you?"

George informed his father, "We can't finish off the supply list just yet. There's been a hiccup at the storehouse in Raglan Street. Also since most of the workshops have been transferred to Brighton, some of the things we need for the telephony training are now located there. Mr. Pearce and I will take the train tomorrow to finish off the list and then return to Downton from there."

"What?" Matthew's brow raised in concern. He knew that St. D's had to reduce their space at Regent's Park but he didn't know that George intended to finish his duties to the absolute letter. "Can't Pearce do this himself?"

"I'm responsible. Mrs. Sanderling gave me the list. I want to go. Please Father."

Matthew heard George's determination. "I'm not sure. Your mother is expecting us. I could go with you I suppose…"

"No, please. Let us do it. You take the train today. I'm not a child remember. In January I'll be fifteen. We'll be fine."

Matthew wasn't sure at all. George was in his second year at Rugby school and had returned for the Christmas holidays the week before and had asked if he could help out at the Hall. Matthew had no real objection so George had been entrusted with a few duties inside the workshops. As they had to go to London for their eye appointments, Gwen Sanderling had given George a list of supplies to bring back. Stan Pearce, one of the newer employees at the Hall, would help. George and Stan had begun an odd sort of friendship, Matthew had noticed. Pearce teaching George the in and outs of the electrics and wiring required to set up the telephone equipment used to teach the men at the Hall to be telephone operators. At first Matthew worried about George's monocular vision would impede his dealing with the delicacy needed to attach the wires, but Pearce seemed a patient teacher and George responded to him.

Matthew wanted to show faith in his son, so he agreed. "I will be at the Hall tomorrow when you arrive."

George was best pleased. "Thank you, Father. Give Mummy, Elinor, Seb, Wills, and baby Violet all my love."

Matthew and Ian Fraser walked outside after seeing George safely back to the office where Pearce and other St. Dunstan employees were crating some of the other items for shipment to the Hall.

"We'll take good care of him, Matthew. Don't you worry." Ian said.

"I know. It's hard to let go. He's not said a lot about his time at school and I've been worried that maybe we made the wrong choice. But he's cheered up considerably since working at the Hall. I'll let Mary know when I get back."

The two men shook hands. Matthew held up his arm to signal a taxi that would take him to St. Pancras rail station.

XX

"Your son makes his affliction almost invisible," Lady Swinton said, condescendingly polite. "Noble of him not to make a show of it."

Isobel, sipping her cocktail, barely contained her desire to throw the drink in the insufferable woman's face. Even after all this time people remained convinced Matthew should act for their benefit. His blindness being their opportunity to show charity to, you know, those less fortunate. Tsk…tsk… And as Matthew would observe to her privately, "that way they can completely ignore the ones truly in need."

Just as Isobel thought it, Lady Swinton put it into words.

"Not like those undeserving with their cups and their pencil selling." A definite disapproval tone change. "I feel quite ill at ease when doing walkies with the corgis. I wish they weren't in the village. I suppose your son can't help supporting them."

Isobel walked away as soon as she could. There was no use trying to explain that many of those 'undeserving' were soldiers who had fought for their country in the war past and now suffered and starved on the dole because of the economic collapse of 1929.

Matthew did his best to help. The Swire Trust now extended its work beyond Downton Hall and the blinded to include funding local mobile cafes and food dispersal centres both in large cities like York as well as smaller towns and villages. More of the cottages had been renovated and given over to government agencies housing the poor. But, as was made clear by his meeting with the solicitor the previous day, they had reached the end of immediate resources. Any further advances from the principal and he threatened the long-term soundness of the trust.

He told his mother that information tonight when he returned in time to join the family for the dinner party. She was in the salon when he arrived downstairs after quickly changing from his travel clothes to the tux Lang had cleaned and pressed.

Matthew took his mother's arm and they walked together into the music room where the other guests mingled. "As with so many things, we're stretched to the limit." Internally acknowledging that of course they were far better off than most. Such as tonight where Cora and Robert had decided to host a holiday party for their closest neighbours in preparation for the New Years shooting. Why either were necessary was a mystery to Matthew but he had long since given up trying to figure out how to get through to Robert. Mary and Tom seemed to have ways to make him understand, so he left it up to them.

Even amid the chatting voices Matthew heard his wife's approach. The distinctive swish of her dress was always a welcome sound to his ears. He turned. "Darling."

She kissed his cheek. "You made it down just in time."

"Lang as always had everything prepared."

"I didn't see George upstairs. Was he in the nursery with the other children?"

Matthew shook his head. "He staying in London at St. D's with Stan Pearce from the Hall. There was some trouble getting all the supplies. They'll make a stop in Brighton tomorrow and be on the afternoon train to Downton Station."

"But..."

Matthew shook his head. "I've already been chided by our eldest child, my dear, for expressing apprehension. He's almost fifteen and should be allowed some independence as he told me himself. He's not alone. Mr. Pearce is with him."

Mary's eyes narrowed. She knew very little about the employees at Matthew's charity Hall. "What do we know of him?"

"He's from Spitalfields. Served in the war with the London Rifle Brigade. Sanderling hired him earlier in the summer. George has struck up a real friendship with him. They'll be fine."

Mary was about to say something when her mother caught her attention to ask her over to speak to another guest.

Isobel spoke up. "I'm glad you've allowed George to take on some responsibilities. He needs it."

Matthew gave a knowing smile. "You've always said I'm overprotective. I am trying to stop but it's not easy."

Isobel knew that her son and her eldest grandson were very close. Their shared vision issues bringing them even closer. Though George's monocular vision did allow him more freedom of movement than his father's condition, he was naturally a shy, bookish boy. So venturing out beyond school and home seemed a good thing to his grandmother.

That moment Lady Swinton arrived. Matthew greeted her and made some requisite polite conversation. Mary touched his shoulder and guided him away towards Cora to greet other guests.

Isobel sipped her drink and surveyed the room. On the surface it seemed as if the family was managing the economic downturn with aplomb. But that was the trick, she knew. Cousin Violet would have said, "nothing succeeds like excess." Then wink and add, "or at the very least give the appearance as such."

Oh, how she missed their old sparring matches. Succumbing to cancer earlier last year, Violet had been laid to rest in the family plot at St. Michael's and All Angels. Her death coincided with the need for even more cost-cutting measures. With Robert's reluctant approval, the family had sold both the Dower House and Grantham House in London to consolidate all their finances in the family estate in Yorkshire.

Crawley House had been gifted to Isobel at Matthew's marriage to Lady Mary in 1918, But Lord Merton, upon moving in after his marriage to Isobel in 1921, had bought the property outright and so that had consolidated the estate even further.

Robert lamented the loss of land that had been in their family for generations. But at least he understood that in Matthew and Mary's careful accounting, they saved the house and farms for generations to come.

Mary Crawley saw Isobel's attempt at hiding her antipathy. "My apologies for leaving you in her company." Mary leaned over to whisper to her mother in law. "Lady Swinton's husband is a dear man. Papa wants Lord Swinton in the new year's shooting party. How he puts up with her is anyone's guess. She's the foulest sort of snob."

Isobel appreciated Mary's knowing look of 'I could also be accused of a milder form of that, but I'm now reformed.'

"She's no worse than my step-children, unfortunately. Which is why Dickie and I rarely see them." It was regretful that no bridges had been mended there, Isobel thought. But she wouldn't let it destroy her happiness with Richard.

Mary changed to a more pleasant subject. "Matthew told me Lord Merton has been very generous. He's agreed to take Mr. Fforbes-Hamilton's seat as a Swire Trustee?" The older man had died unexpectedly earlier in the year and Matthew needed a replacement. Matthew brought the paperwork from the solicitor and the bank back to London for his step father to sign. In order to be accepted you had to add an influx of cash or property that would then be used to benefit the various charitable endeavours created by the trust. Given the fragility of the current banking system, Barclays Bank wanted the money up front. Lord Merton had more than understood much to Matthew's relief.

"So much better it goes to help those hurt by this Depression." Isobel observed. "My charitable efforts are tied up with organizing Matthew's food dispersal centers. The need is strong."

"Papa feels quite constrained by the limitations we've had to place on the estate which unfortunately resulted in some employees being let go. We have let them keep their cottages rent free but that incurs more debt onto us. Tom and I have tried to show him the benefits of economizing but the numbers just get all jumbled in his head. I have to say I am not the best with maths either but I see the consequences if we do not. So many families already turned out." Mary shivered. "I've always ever so thankful Matthew decided to add his money to the estate. It's made all the difference."

"He appreciates all your hard work. The Crawley's are a formidable team. Larry and Amelia have run through most of the inheritance already. They act as if everything is normal. Amelia must have her new winter wardrobe. Dickie might have to put them on an allowance."

"Matthew's more and more determined on retrenchment. Elinor has her heart set on a horse for Christmas. Matthew is adamantly against. Not only because of the cost but her age. He still thinks she's too young to handle a real thoroughbred."

"And you disagree?"

"I was the same age when Papa got me Diamond. Until the army took him away, we were inseparable. Matthew doesn't understand that kind of devotion. We grew up together. I think it will be good for Elinor to have the responsibility attached to taking care of a horse. Cleaning the tack, brushing him down, mucking the stable. I did it all. Papa wouldn't let me ride otherwise."

"Perhaps he just can't justify the cost given the circumstances."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "Hard to explain the world economy to a horse mad child."

Another example of the insularity of their aristocratic lifestyle, Isobel might have said. Elinor could use a turn at the food dispensing center to see true deprivation. But fifteen years of dealing with her daughter in law had taught Isobel to hold her tongue for fear of sounding strident. Mary did things in her own time. She was her own woman. An excellent mother. A loving wife. And Elinor was a dear child. A bit spoiled as the only girl for so long, but with a good head on her shoulders. She would make her way in the world, Isobel believed, with the assured grace of her mother and the kindly influence of her father.

Isobel asked instead, "Where did Matthew disappear to? I don't see him anymore."

Mary glanced out the side door of the music room. "Coates called him aside. He's wanted on the telephone. I did think he'd be back by now. Would you excuse me."

Mary walked out the room and into the saloon. The telephone was on a stand near the fireplace. Matthew was just ringing off.

"Thank you for telling me, Trevor. No … no it's not your fault. We'll…" he paused, "we'll deal with it in the morning."

His hand slipped as he tried to feel for the handle. The receiver fell and the telephone dropped off the table.

"Damn…" he muttered just as Mary approached.

"I'll get it." She gave his forearm a supportive tap.

"Thank you." Matthew felt for the armchair he knew was right by the telephone stand and sat down with a grunt.

Mary replaced the telephone upright and the knelt by her husband.

"What's wrong?"

He looked up, his eyes staring into the middle distance. "Trevor has just found out from another of the new employees that Stan Pearce has an arrest record in London. Grievous bodily harm and manslaughter upon someone who rent outed part of a room in a house where Pearce lived with his wife. He's known to have a temper it turns out, according to this person. Something from the war…."

He reached out for Mary's hand. She entwined her fingers to his. "He'll have to be fired, of course. Lying to the Hall about his past. Trevor is most upset."

"But he's with George, isn't he?" Mary's voice quavered. "Shouldn't we do something?"

"George is at St. Dunstan's in the guest quarters. He's fine. The Fraser's are taking good care of him. They'll travel back tomorrow just as planned. I'll be at the Hall with Trevor to break the news to Pearce."

"He won't get violent, I hope? Not in front of George."

Matthew heard the unspoken accusation in her tone. How could he have let this happen? In trying to give George some independence, had he actually dropped him into unexpected danger?

"I'll deal with it. Nothing will happen to George, be assured."

But Mary couldn't help it. Her mind wandered to all kinds of ghastly scenarios. Though she hated to think it, maybe Lady Swinton was right to fear the presence of so many London poor in their midst.

What did they know of any of them?

XX

_So there's the first part of a two part Christmas The Gift fic… because I can't seem to let go of this version of the Crawley family. The next chapter will be about all good Christmas themes of trust, goodwill, redemption, and charity. George's friendship with Mr. Pearce and his relationship with his father will provide the means by which the family learns important lessons. Thanks for reading, reviewing, liking. Always always appreciated! Also Ian Fraser's __My Story of St. Dunstan's__ was as usual invaluable in writing this chapter. _


	2. Chapter 2

XX

**December 20 1933**

"Some people are here from the _Daily Herald_, Lady Merton." Sybbie called over to Isobel, using her formal title in a public setting. "They want to take some photographs and interview you about the mobile cafes."

Currently the two were in one of the cottages run by the Salvation Army. The Swire Trust had paid to have it refurbished with new flooring, radiators, long tables, and a kitchen installed with two AGA cookers, in part because of the efficiency of the design but also because the inventor, Gustaf Dalén, was blind. He lost his sight in an explosion while developing a device to store combustible gases.

The canteen was for those in need in the community, catering especially to farming families on the estate and just outside as it was the cottage closest to the main road of Downton Village. Right now, the volunteers were thick in the middle of fixing a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausages, and bread.

"I'm much too busy actually helping," Isobel answered as she kept pouring the hot tea into cups. "And I'd much rather their suffering wasn't used to sell newspapers."

Sybbie rejoined, "But doesn't the Salvation Army want attention drawn to their work? So they can get more donations to create more mobile cafes and food canteens?"

Isobel had to grudgingly agree with Sybbie's logic. Desperate times didn't allow for standing on one's moral grounds. "Too right, my dear. Needs must. I'll speak to them directly."

Sybbie returned to setting out the remaining trays on the counter.

Isobel loved Sybbie's enthusiasm. She was so much like her mother, who was as caring an individual as Isobel ever met. Right now, Lady Sybil Branson, as usual, could care less for airs and graces as she dished out the eggs at another station of the canteen, unaware her hair was planted most unladylike against her cheek as she bent over the steaming hot chafing dish.

"Lady Hexham, I'll fetch more trays from the kitchen." Sybbie almost broke public protocol there and referred to the marchioness as Auntie Edith. The title was new, and she had a hard time remembering.

"Thank you." Edith said, laying out slices of the thick sliced bread onto the trays. She also had offered to help as the family was down for the holidays. Bertie had to stay back for a few days at Brancaster, now having more duties as Marquess of Hexham upon his father's death the previous month. She had been pleased her father in law lived to see his grandchildren, especially young Albert who was the long expectant heir. Indeed both her sons were heirs to estates that she wondered would make it past this crippling economic crisis in any state of solvency. After the new year, during his holidays from school Jack would start spending more time learning to oversee Strallan Hall under the guidance of the estate manager. She wanted him to love the house as Anthony had done. Edith hoped she had done right by putting Jack at Eton, his father's old school. Trying to connect a child to a father he never met was a tricky thing. But she never wanted to forget the love she had for Anthony. Talking to Jack and answering his questions brought back so many happy memories.

"Elinor!" Sybbie called out noticing that her cousin had arrived.

The two quickly embraced then Sybbie handed Elinor her an apron.

"I meant to come sooner but Neve and Marie wanted me to set up the doll house." Elinor said, trying to sound keen. She didn't exactly want to be in the canteen with the sad people and the curious smells but she knew Sybbie would expect her to help. She didn't want to appear above helping out but she had been protected from such hardship by her parents and so found all of this quite overwhelming.

But she'd not let Sybbie down. They had been inseparable ever since they were toddlers.

All the younger children stayed in the nursery under the steady hand of their nanny Florence and Anna's sister Helen who was helping out. The nursery was full to bursting. Edith's two youngest, Marie at seven and Albert at five, along with William and Neve all played with various toys on the carpeted floor. Sebastian and Jack were in deep concentrating, putting together the erector set Matthew had bought in London to make a Ferris Wheel in time for the younger boys to play with on Christmas day. Mr. Pookie decorated the chair next to Violet's cot. Elinor had given her favorite bear to Violet shortly after her birth, pleased as punch to finally have a sister.

Mary walked inside the canteen a few minutes after her daughter. She had promised her sisters to join them that morning, despite being very concerned for George's safety. Matthew had said not to worry, he'd sort it all out. He'd heard that Stan Pearce was a hard worker and no one had said he had a violent temper. There must be an explanation for his need to prevaricate about his past.

She didn't want to succumb to her fears. Or appear like Lady Swinton or others of her ilk whose class bound opinions meant that all of the labouring poor were criminals by nature and therefore to be met always with suspicion. Nonsense of course. But she knew she'd spend the day on edge. Going to help at the canteen would keep her mind distracted. She'd not tell that to Sybil who'd want her to come not out of some selfish motivation but because of the goodness of the cause itself.

Mary wished she had Sybil's nature, but she didn't. Being around Matthew, George, and Sybil and their true generosity of spirit had made her aware enough to realize her motivations would always be a mix of private and obligatory. At least she would admit to that. It was the Lady Swinton's with their "Lady Bountiful" act that reeked of _noblesse oblige_ at it's most obvious and affected. Perhaps it was fear of appearing like her that kept Mary from doing more. If so she needed to overcome that as it was true there so much to be done to help.

"Lady Mary," Sybbie approached. "Would you mind helping Lady Hexham? I will bring over an apron directly."

Mary nodded graciously at her niece and headed over to the table where Edith was handing out trays of food.

XX

Matthew and Trevor walked towards the train station platform. Sanderling, despite being legally blind, did have good peripheral vision, so he helped guide Matthew towards the gravel path from the Hall and then around to the main road that led to Downton Station. George was expected on the 2:00 train. He had telephoned that morning to inform the family of his return, telling his father proudly, "we've arranged for all the supplies for the Hall to be delivered by Christmas Eve."

Matthew had rung off, saying to Mary, "George sounds cheerful and happy. See darling," he kissed her cheek. "He's fine."

He knew Mary heard the tension in his voice. He dreaded having to tell George his friend must be let go from the Hall.

As if hearing his thoughts Trevor said, "I know it's going to be hard, Matthew. But we've set up the rules at the Hall for a reason. There are so many workers in need of a job, I can't have someone who lied their way into employment."

Matthew heaved a heavy sigh. "I understand completely Trevor. And I don't want to step on your toes as Director of the Hall."

"You never do, Matthew. I appreciate your discretion. You are the founder of the Hall but you never throw your weight around."

Matthew smiled. "And I have complete trust in your judgment." Just then he heard the train guard blow his whistle. George's train was approaching.

The two men stood and waited. The station manager approached. "Mr. Crawley."

"Hello Mr. Serrell. George is on the 2:00. Do you see him?"

"He's getting off just now, sir. The on-board conductor kept an eye on him as he was on his own in First Class."

"Thank you."

The young man approached. "Father. Mr. Sanderling. I didn't expect both of you to be at the station. I assure you Mr. Pearce and I have it all under control."

"Of course, you do, son. We thought we'd meet you." Matthew reassured.

Pearce was at the other end of the train, helping out the porters lift out the supplies that could be stored and shipped directly from Brighton.

"I'll help Pearce supervise," Trevor said, making a move down the platform.

"We'll let them get on, shall we?" Matthew said. "I want to talk with you as we walk back to the Hall." He took his son's arm and the two began to walk towards the road that would lead them back to the gravel walk on the Downton estate.

"What is it, Father?"

Matthew stopped, placing his stick in the ground to balance him as he leaned against it. "There's been a development with regards to Mr. Pearce's employment at the Hall. I wanted to tell you before we get back to the office. I'm afraid Mr. Sanderling will have to let Pearce go."

"What?"

Matthew heard his son's stricken tone. "I know…"

"But he's a good man. Reliable. He's taught me so much about the electrics and telephone operations at the Hall. No one else has ever taken an interest like that. They allow me watch things but only because I'm your son. They never offer to let me help."

"They're only looking after you," Matthew said.

"I know they mean well," George acknowledged. "But everyone acts differently around me. It's not just because of my eyes. Everyone at the Hall knows I'm heir to this estate and they treat me as someone to whom they must defer. Mr. Pearce lets me get right into the circuitry under his guidance. It doesn't matter if I have monocular vision or am of a different social station. He says that hard work is its own reward. The only things I need to remember are to follow his supervision, be careful around the equipment, and always ask for help when needed."

"That is showing sound judgment," Matthew admitted.

"Then why let him go?"

Time to get to the crux of the matter. "There's new information come to light that he wasn't completely honest about his previous life upon his employment at the Hall. He…" Matthew struggled to complete the words. He knew his son would be devastated. "He lied about having a prison record. It seems he has a violent past. Another itinerant worker at the Hall recognized him and told Sanderling about it."

"How do you know this fellow is telling the truth? Maybe he's got the wrong man."

Matthew admired his son's loyalty. "Trevor's speaking to Pearce now about it. I'm sure we'll get to the truth."

"It doesn't seem right. He's so patient. In Brighton there was a miscommunication initially and they got the supplies all mixed up. Mr. Pearce fixed it all without losing his temper."

His father tried to change the subject. "After the holidays, you'll be back at school and your friends soon. New interests will take over."

George was silent. The two stood along the gravel path, neither speaking.

This unnerved Matthew considerably. It was what he feared. That his son was unhappy at Rugby.

"Is there something I'm missing, son? You can tell me you know."

"I… like Rugby a great deal. Our housemaster is a good man. I enjoy my classes. The Latin master says I have a real gift for the language. Miss Paige would be pleased to know that. She spent days and days with me on those declensions."

Matthew noted the forced tone of his son's voice. He was hiding something, he was sure. And George said nothing about friends.

This couldn't go on. They needed to have a heart to heart talk.

"I'm glad you like your studies. I was much the same." He picked up his cane into his hand. "Isn't there a bench around here? I'd like to sit."

"Over here." George guided his father to a stone bench under a large elm tree.

Matthew felt along the back of the bench, reached over, and put his hand on his son's shoulder. "I've not told anyone everything about my years at Rugby. Not even my mother. I didn't see the point as nothing could really be done. Or at least that's what I felt at the time. My…" his brow furrowed. "… my blindness made me an outcast. A leper. Useless. Or I felt like one and so people treated me as such. I really don't know. Everyone at school has to endure the teasings, the fagging especially in your junior years. But because I was blind, I couldn't complete the tasks usually given to junior boys like running errands or brushing clothes for the fag master. When I tried to serve the senior boys tea it spilt all over the table and they declared me too incompetent to continue, laughed, and threw it back in my face."

"That's horrible."

Matthew scowled at the memory. "It wasn't the best tradition of the founder. I know Thomas Arnold saw the system as a structure for keeping order within the school in places where the school master's authority was limited. It was meant to be carried out as a privilege and the seniors were to protect the juniors. But that wasn't always the case. Depending on the sixth former, they might help out with an injustice or participate in their own form of punishment without reporting anything to the masters."

Matthew was plumbing the depths of his unhappy school experiences. He very seldom dredged up these memories. He never told his mother because she thought she was doing her best by sending him to a fine school such as Rugby. The upshot was that he endured the harassment alone. And it had made him even more isolated. He built up a mental suit of armour to deal with it all, making him even more quick to take offence and assume everyone wanted to mock him. It had lasted almost half his life before he got over it.

He didn't want that for George.

"I was given nicknames by some of the fifth and sixth formers. Things that only public school boys could make up and laugh at. Like 'Cecil' because the English derivation of 'Caecus' was blind. Or 'all behind' because I couldn't see forward. Other times it was 'ein Blinder' or 'blöderhund.' Sometimes just 'Matty' like I was still four years old." Matthew could have gone on but he hoped the point was made. "Once the headmaster found out, he tried to make them stop. My Greek master was particularly kind and started me helping out with school productions of plays and recitations. I helped them learn the lines though I seldom participated myself." He now wasn't sure if it was because the school never asked him to, or maybe he assumed that and never pursued it.

"I'm telling you this because I want your experiences at school to be better. I felt there was nothing I could do, but I now believe that to be wrong."

George couldn't believe his father had experienced the same type of bullying behaviours. He was always so composed, so assured. Surely no one would dare to give him cruel nicknames.

George finally broke down and admitted, "Mine is 'Cyclops' or 'Polyphemus' when they want to sound clever clever."

Matthew's shoulders sagged. He reached out and George moved into his embrace. "Oh George…" Matthew's pain came out as a whispered, "I'm so so sorry…" He gently rested his head against his son's. "I wanted your life to be better."

There were very few alternatives to keeping George at school. A private tutor, maybe? But wouldn't that make him even more isolated and feeling different?

"I'm fine, Father," George said, attempting a resiliency he didn't quite feel. "I want to stay at Rugby. I'll go back and concentrate on my studies."

"I'm sure you will." Matthew answered, still unsteady but willing to go along with George's determination. "But you mustn't keep things locked inside. I want you to know that I understand. You can tell me whatever is on your mind."

George nodded, and then knowing his father needed a verbal response as well, said "Thank you. It's not so bad most of the time. But I think it's why I like being here at the Hall helping Mr. Pearce. Isn't there anything we can do?"

Matthew considered his son's wish seriously. "I've told Mr. Sanderling I can't interfere with Hall policies. He's the Director and he must be allowed to lead as he sees fit."

"But can't we hear Mr. Pearce's point of view? Maybe there's a part of the story we don't know. Like you said about my time at Rugby. A missing piece he knows that we don't."

"Yes." Matthew conceded. "It's entirely possible. I could approach Trevor and see if he'd mind if I spoke with Pearce." He privately admitted to a curiosity about this man who's made such a positive impression on his son. "But that still might not change Mr. Sanderling's mind. Rules are rules."

"May I join you?"

"No…" Matthew spoke slowly, his mind whirring with the possibilities of what Pearce might confess. The charges were grievous bodily harm and manslaughter after all. "Let me see him first."

George knew his father didn't want him to be shocked by any of the details concerning Pearce's past. "You don't have to protect me. I can be there."

"It's my responsibility as your father to make that decision, George. And it's my opinion that I should do this alone. I admire your loyalty, however. It's why I want to do this."

"Very well." George was disappointed but acceded to his father's wishes. "Will you do it now?"

Matthew had to chuckle at his son's enthusiasm. "Of course. But why don't you go home? Your mother and sister should be back from the canteen now. Go and have tea with the family. I'll be back shortly." He stood up and continued on the path towards the Hall while George turned around and walked back to Downton Abbey.

XX

"I don't feel you're stepping on my toes, Matthew." Sanderling reassured. "As a matter of fact, it's a good idea. I thought very highly of Stan Pearce. These accusations that have come to light don't seem in character with the man I know."

"George says the same. And I trust both your judgment and my own. It just doesn't make sense. I'm glad you think it's a good idea to take the measure of the man."

"I won't say it will play any role in my letting him go. That had to be done."

"How did Pearce take it?"

"Calmly. He understood he had done wrong in not disclosing his past record. And he said he appreciated the opportunity to work for us."

Matthew thought that spoke well of Pearce. "Where is he now?"

"Collecting his things together. He's in the room next to the electrical workshop."

"I know the way." Matthew walked towards the office door, felt for the handle and opened it. It led down the corridor. He knew to take a right and then go four doors down.

He knocked.

"Come in."

Matthew opened the door. "Mr. Pearce?"

"Yes." A distinctive London accent greeted Matthew's ears.

"I'm Matthew Crawley. George's father." He held out his hand.

Pearce accepted it. "And owner of this establishment. You do good work here."

"Thank you. The Swire Trust is something dear to my heart."

"Your son does you credit as well. He's a fine boy."

Matthew could hear no attempt to curry his favour by praising his son. He sounded sincere. "George thinks very highly of you. That's why I'm here. To talk over this situation."

"Why would you do that? Mr. Sanderling's made his decision."

"True and I won't gainsay his ruling. But listening to your side is something George asked me to do. And I would be remiss if we didn't try to learn from this in the future at the Hall. We don't want to think we've treated you unfairly."

"I'm amazed you care, if you don't mind me saying so Mr. Crawley. Men of your class seldom ever do. We're dismissed without account every day. I've gotten used to it. And maybe they're right to do so. I don't appear to do much good wherever I go."

Matthew heard the pain in that confession. "You're not wrong there about society turning a blind eye. It's unforgivable. At time of the year I'm reminded of something Charles Dickens said -'_No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another._' You've accomplished that with my son, Mr. Pearce. And I want to help you."

Stan Pearce stood rigidly still, stunned at Matthew's offer. This man wanted to help him? After he had lied to get what was a desperately needed job. He couldn't even see him to take stock of his character.

But what did he have to lose?

XX

_So this story that was only going to be one chapter… is now three. __ This is me as a fan fic authorI hope to have this LAST chapter out on Dec 25. Thanks to everyone and Happy Holidays!_


	3. Chapter 3

Matthew sat down in one of the armchairs next to the hearth. He heard Pearce stab pieces wood with a cast iron poker. The wood popping and crackling, a welcome burst of heat met his cheek.

Pearce spoke as he worked. "I won't take too much of your time. It's not a story I like to tell. I'm very sorry about lying. It didn't come easy, if that's anything. I've had trouble finding work since being discharged in 1930 by Cammell Laird where I was an electrician working on the passenger coaches and Underground cars. Not enough contracts, they said. Nothing they could do, economic times and all. But my wife was sick with the cancer and we were barely making it as it was, her unable to work. I didn't have a pension from the war, not being what they'd call wounded." Pearce abruptly stopped.

Matthew heard the bitter tone. Physically intact, but he suspected Pearce suffered from shell shock like Lang.

Pearce took up the thread of the story again. "We took in some boarders to help with the bills. Our lease was in the red. The missus didn't want to but I thought it was best. Turned out the worst decision I could have made."

Matthew interrupted, "I understand if this is difficult. I don't want to make anything worse for you..."

"No. Good to tell it, I think. I'm not proud of what happened. But I'd do the same again."

Matthew heard another angry snap from the fire as Peace stabbed it again but he stayed silent, letting Pearce tell his history in his own time.

"One of the people we let the back room too… a dock worker named Harry Brown. He thought he could do anything he wanted because he was a bull of a man. Kept putting off paying his rent. Flirting with Ruth though she asked him not to. He …he wouldn't let no keep him away. I came back one day after looking for work to find him trying to …to grope my wife. She was weak, couldn't fight him off. I… I did it for her. I grabbed his shoulder and pushed him away from her. He was drunk but that didn't stop him from twisting around and trying to break my neck. I… I kicked him in the groin, he let go but then he started in again. I got in one good punch and he … fell back against the side of the table. Hit his head. There was blood everywhere. He died later at the hospital…." His voice trailed off.

Silence met Matthew's ears. Pearce's accounting was both tragic and not unfamiliar. He'd been at St. Dunstan's and the Hall long enough to hear other veteran's stories of life after the war not being the 'home fit for heroes' the politicians like to boast.

"The police took me in for questioning. No one else was there to back up my story but my wife who the investigators said was possibly lying to hide an affair. It also didn't help that I had one or two barnies with the police before. A bar fight that got out of hand. My temper does sometimes get the better of me. After the war… " He threw himself down in the other chair. "In the end the judge accepted it wasn't deliberate murder but I got two years for voluntary manslaughter. Served just over a year in Walton Gaol before being released on good behaviour. My wife died while I was inside."

Pearce told his story in a monotone. This struck Matthew as illuminating to the man's character. He was past feeling emotions anymore. The pain had gone too deep.

"Been moving around ever since getting work where I could. Mr. Sanderling needed someone who could handle electric and telephone work. I unwisely thought I could prove myself first and then tell him about my prison record. But I didn't expect a friend of Brown's to show up."

Matthew felt enormous pity for Pearce, but he knew better than to say it. Like so many veterans of the past war, he was a lost soul people wanted to either ignore or blame for all of society's ills.

"I didn't intend to deceive anyone. Especially young George."

"I know that now. Thank you for telling me the truth." Matthew rose from the armchair. "Would you go with me and tell Sanderling as well. I don't guarantee anything, of course. But I'd like him to hear your case.

"I don't want charity. Even if it is Christmas."

"Sanderling's a fair man and deserves the whole story. He'll weigh all the relevant factors. We can take it from there."

Pearce agreed on those terms and the two men left the room and returned to the front office.

XX

**Christmas Eve 1933**

"It's here! It's here!" Sybbie's excited voice echoed in the saloon.

"How big is it?" Sebastian came tearing down the red staircase.

"Oh I don't know…" Sybbie stretched out her arms as far as they could go. "Gigantic."

Two footmen and a couple estate workers carefully guided the large fir tree into the saloon, righted it in the large pot with wood stakes used to support and water the tree, and finally stood back to see if it would stay in place.

"Hurrah!" The children clapped. "Who's going to put on the lights?" Sebastian asked. "I can help."

"Are all the ornaments ready?" Elinor walked quickly in from the music room. "I want to put on the glass Father Christmas ornament Great Granny Violet gave me last year."

"Daddy's bringing the holly and berry chains we made last night to wrap around the tree." Neve kept poking her head towards the front door to see if her father had arrived yet.

Sybil, Mary, and Edith stood nearby watching the children get more and more excited by the moment. Edith said, "I know Coates and Mrs. Nicholson had the ornaments brought down from the attic."

"Goodie!" Marie clapped her hands. "I love all the colored ones," and she made a picture in the air of the spherical German kugels that came in vibrant colours of red, yellow, blue, and green.

"You must be very careful," Edith reminded her daughter. "Some of them are quite old and fragile."

"I will Mummy." Marie skipped over to where Elinor and Sebastian patiently stood, waiting for the boxes to be opened.

Sybil leaned over to Mary. "I remember dropping one of the Victorian glass acorns in trying to reach up to bough just beyond my grasp. It shattered all over the floor. Carson went beet red but maintained his air of dignity as he calmly instructed it to be cleaned up immediately."

"Dear Carson. He was flustered by nothing. Mama received a card from them the other day wishing everyone a Happy Christmas. He and Mrs. Hughes…I mean Mrs. Carson are visiting Mrs. Patmore at her establishment in Haughton-le-Skerne for the holidays."

"Where are Jack and George?" Sybil counted the heads of all the children and realized the two eldest boys were missing.

Mary answered. "They've gone to the Hall. Tom and Matthew are with them. With the help of some of the tenants, the Hall residents are putting together a sleigh ride for the children decorated with ribbons, laurel, paper chains, and holly. Joseph and Sam are organizing a caroling as well for later this evening. Matthew asked Papa if they could sing outside Downton and then take the road through the Village. Father Christmas will ride along and hand out sweets to the children."

"Who's playing that role?"

Mary shrugged. "It's a surprise. Matthew's sworn to secrecy. He's arriving back later in time to dress for dinner. I'm about to go up to the nursery to get William. I promised him he could help put on some of the ornaments if I held him up."

"I'll join you. Albert should be awake from his nap." Edith stepped towards the staircase.

Sybil walked over to join her daughters in placing some wooden toy ornaments on the tree. She handed a soft, cotton batting filled apple ornament to Neve. Hard to break, perfect for little hands.

Cora joined them, after finishing lunch with Robert who returned to the library to finish reading his newspaper. She watched as the new generation of children unwrapped the precious decorations, some of which she had collected on her honeymoon trip in Germany in the late 19th century. She missed hearing Violet's contributions to the tree trimmings, usually in the form of careful instructions on exactly where the ornaments should be placed. "No, not there," she'd have said. "Up two branches to the right where it can catch the light."

Her own mother was ailing as well. Cora hoped to visit in the coming year.

The chattering of the children, so happy and joyful, filled her heart with the warmth of the season.

Mary descended the staircase, little William rubbing his eyes after his own nap. She stood next to her mother. "Happy Christmas, Mama."

"Happy Christmas, my darling." Cora kissed her grandson's cheek and gently took him from Mary's arms so she could help him place some of her very favorite ornaments on the tree.

XX

Mary fitted the pear-shaped ruby and diamond lever back drop earring into her left lobe. The set had been an early Christmas gift from Matthew. She wanted to wear them to the family dinner on Christmas Eve.

"They're beautiful, mi'lady." Anna put the finishing touches on Lady Mary's coiffure. "They complement your dress to perfection."

"Thank you, Anna." Mary said. "Has the rest of the family arrived?"

"Lady Sybil and Mr. Branson are downstairs with Miss Branson. Helen is continuing to help Florence out in the nursery with the younger children."

"I know Lady Sybil appreciates all the help your sister is giving in addition to her duties as their housekeeper. But you both will be taking the rest of the week off, correct? That was part of our holiday gift."

Anna smiled. "Yes, mi'lady. We're going to see the new Gracie Fields movie at the Odeon."

Mary also knew that Anna was spending time with one of the new school teachers at the local grammar school, a Mr. Frederick Gordon. Mary was glad Anna finally found someone. It had been so long since Mr. Bates death.

"Good."

Just then Matthew gently rapped on the door leading to his dressing chamber.

Anna nodded at Mary, knowing the signal was one Mr. Crawley gave when he wanted to have some private time with his wife. She left the room to finish up some of her other duties.

"Come in, darling." Mary turned her head towards the door.

Matthew turned the knob and walked inside their bedroom. He placed his cane by the chair alongside her dressing stand and reached out his hand. She took it and placed it against her cheek.

He knew exactly where to place his kiss. He felt for her earlobe. "Ah the new earrings. Do you like them?"

"Exquisite." Matthew's kiss tickled delightfully.

"George is dressing as well. Sorry for being a bit late. He wanted to show off his handiwork on the sleigh. You'll be very impressed later tonight when the residents make their way here."

Mary still wasn't sure she wanted her son spending so much time among the workmen at the Hall especially as now Sebastian wanted to join him. But after having spoken with George at length, she understood just as Matthew did how important it was for him to have the opportunity to see life from other perspectives. Neither wanted their children to be pampered and protected as the world was changing at such a pace.

"How's Mr. Pearce's probation going?"

"Another six months and Sanderling's agreed to review his permanent employment." Matthew had been pleased Trevor had decided to reconsider his decision to outright sack Pearce once his story was verified by Liverpool police and court records.

Mary reached out to take her husband's hand. "I know you're glad about that."

Matthew sat down in his usual chair beside her table.

"Oh," Mary just remembered the telephone call from earlier in the day. "Rose and Atticus cannot make the New Year's shoot. It seems her father's new wife wants them all at Duneagle."

"I see. Maybe we'll take a trip to Scotland in the spring before they go back to New York. I know Elinor wants to see Victoria again."

Mary nodded, taking one last look in the mirror. "Shall we?"

He stood up and reached out for his cane. "I do hope it's just us tonight."

"Yes. Papa wanted to invite Colonel Britt but Mama prevailed on a private family Christmas eve."

"Perfect." He took her extended arm and they made their move downstairs to the drawing room to greet the rest of the family.

XX

After dinner Matthew mysteriously disappeared. Coates informed Lady Mary that he was recalled back to Downton Hall.

Mary would normally be put out by his putting the Hall above family, instead just nodded. She knew what Matthew was up to and couldn't wait to see the children's reactions.

Coates also said Lord Grantham, Mr. Branson, and Lord Hexham left with Mr. Crawley.

Her eyes narrowed. "What?" Now that was a surprise.

As the women gathered in the drawing room, the conversation turned to the missing men.

"What are they up to?" Sybil asked. "Tom said nothing on the walk over here."

"I knew Bertie was hiding something," Edith laughed. "He kept asking to make sure the children wouldn't be put to bed so early this evening."

They turned to Mary.

"Don't look at me. I knew Matthew was a part of the evening's activities at the Hall, but that's it. What's Papa doing?"

Cora could but shrug. Isobel as well had no idea. She turned to her husband, "do you know?"

Lord Merton gave an enigmatic smile. "I have an inkling, yes. They asked me to join them earlier but my arthritis won't allow it. I am, however, sworn, to secrecy."

Very soon the answer came in the form of jingle bells being heard outside. A "whoa!" call out and the start of a carol met their ears. "_God rest ye merry, gentlemen. Let nothing you dismay…"_

Sybil started to giggle, the little girl who loved all things Christmas coming out. "Let's go get the children!"

Elinor, Jack, and George were already ahead of them, leading the younger ones down the stairs.

"Mummy Mummy!" Neve reached up for her mother to take her into her arms. "Is it Father Christmas? Is it really?"

Albert walked over to the chimney. "There's a fire. How can he get down?" But he checked his stocking just in case.

"He's not eaten the mince pies yet," Marie noted.

Elinor, who believed herself above such childish beliefs, but went along for the younger one's sake, said, "It's too early for Father Christmas. There's a horse outside. I heard it. Let's go see."

"Not before you put on something warm," Cora said just as Coates, Mrs. Nicholson, Anna, and Helen arrived with jacket, mittens, and hats.

"I thought you were going to the pictures," Mary observed to Anna.

"We put it off until tomorrow." Anna grinned, helping William on with his mittens. He was jumping from one foot to the other. "May we go now?"

"Stand still, Wills," Mary replied, trying to get his coat through one arm.

"It's snowing!" Elinor looked through the front window. "Come on everyone!"

Coates opened the door and they all walked outside to see a large sleigh pulled by two of the large draft horses used on the estate, decorated with all sorts of holly, ribbons, yew leaves, and coloured paper chains. Robert sat at the front, holding the horses' reins. He had on a top hat with a sprig of holly inside the ribbon.

"Happy Christmas!" Robert called out the all the children.

Tom and Bertie got out of the sleigh and started to hand out small ribbon candies to the children as they continued to sing along with the carolers from Downton Hall who formed a tight group trailing behind the sleigh which had guided their path towards the Abbey.

Just then a man with a flowing white beard, wearing a red sleeved gown and hood trimmed in white fur arrived with a sack behind his back.

Marie gave a shriek of glee even as she clasped even harder to her mother's chest. William and Neve moved in for a closer look.

"I think I've gotten letters from some children," the man said in a jolly, booming voice. He knelt down and peered over his glasses. "Were they from you?" He could hear the crunch of snow under their feet as they approached.

"Oh yes," Neve said, excitedly. "Are you really Father Christmas?"

Sebastian took a bolder step forward and looked very closely at the bearded man. "It's Daddy! It's Daddy!"

Tom and Bertie moved closer to Matthew to help him stand up. The sack was taking away his center of balance.

"Daddy!" William threw himself into his father's arms. "This is the best Christmas present. May I ride in the sleigh with Grandfather?"

Matthew tried to protest, but the jig was up. He hugged his son as Tom carefully reached out and took the sack from Matthew's other arm. "Of course you can."

Bertie took the seven-year-old from Matthew's arm and lifted him onto the seat beside Robert.

Mary approached her husband. "How very clandestine indeed."

He grinned, holding down his faux beard to speak. "We're going to go into the Village and over to the canteen. Mrs. Mason has the cakes, cookies, and hot buttered rum or cocoa packed in hampers. Stan and some of the other sighted men from the Hall are going to follow us in a lorry."

"She's in on it as well?" Mary laughed. The former assistant cook Daisy Robinson had married footman William Mason and took on the responsibilities of full time cook when Mrs. Patmore retired. "You have been busy."

"I didn't want to lose the surprise for the children when we showed up outside. I could hear their peals of excitement." Matthew loved hearing the cries from the children. "Tom and Bertie were on hand to help me. Robert joined at the last minute, not wanting to be left out of the fun."

"It's wonderful. I don't think they'll forget this Christmas." Mary gave her husband's very red, cold lips a kiss. "And neither will I…Father Christmas."

They embraced and then Mary helped Matthew return to the group of carolers from the Hall. Sam had started them on "Once in Royal David's City" as they continued on their way into Downton Village. The children were nestled together on the sleigh, bundled with blankets to keep out the night's chill.

They all joined in

_Once in royal David's city,  
Stood a lowly cattle shed,  
Where a mother laid her baby  
In a manger for His bed…_

XX

Christmas day ended with the family gathered in the drawing room by a roaring fire.

Matthew had spent some of the day with Joseph at the Hall where his friend had revealed that he and his father's gift was an extension to the Hall that would double the size of the recreation facility and fill it with mats, barbells, dumbbells, and rowing machines.

"Healthy body, healthy mind," Joseph said as they spoke outside the Hall. Joseph was to return to London that day with Sam for a dinner with Sam's parents who had finally come around to accepting their son's life was his own to lead.

"I'm stunned, Joseph. Thank you so much."

"You've achieved amazing things here Matthew. I can hardly remember the callow young man I met almost seventeen years ago who didn't know what he wanted from life."

The two men shook hands.

Matthew walked back down the gravel path to his home. Home to his wife, his children. He loved them all so much. He'd not change a single thing about his life now.

The gifts had been exchanged that morning for the family. Elinor had, at first been disappointed, but then realized after opening a gift a new bridle, she would get her horse after all. Matthew had reluctantly given in to beloved daughter's wish. Sweetbriar would be delivered on Boxing Day to the Downton stables. The younger children opened up their toys with glee. George loved his collection of popular detective mysteries and gothic tales of horror. He also got a welcome surprise from Jack who told him that he'd be starting at Rugby next term as his mother realized that Eton was too far away from the family. Matthew and Edith had spoke earlier in the day to confirm the arrangement would satisfy both boy's issues of loneliness and isolation. Together they could rely on the other.

After a Christmas dinner of roast turkey, vegetables, and cranberry sauce the children took the ends of the Christmas crackers and pulled them with a loud 'bang' open to find small hats and toys inside.

Walking through to the drawing room, Matthew stopped Mary in the hallway.

"I think this is the spot," he said.

"Spot for what?"

"This…" and his mouth found his wife's soft lips in a tender kiss. "We are under the mistletoe after all."

Mary, her eyes fluttering from the intensity of the kiss, looked up and smiled. "How did you know it was there?"

Matthew kissed her again. "I just knew…" then he laughed and admitted "I had Lang place it there so I knew where to kiss you."

"How clever darling…" Mary melted into her husband's embrace. "Happy Christmas."

They finished off the evening, the children already with their head's nodding with sleep with a reading from _A Christmas Carol_, as acted out by Matthew, who had already read the story for the BBC the week before, with help from William providing the sweet voice of Tiny Tim…

"_And so, as Tiny Tim observed…" _Matthew started.

"_God bless Us, Every One!" _

XX

**Happy Christmas to all **


End file.
